


cotton candy kiss, can't wait for my sugar rush

by ballsdeepinjesus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M, Pining, Rimming, oy vey, sexual innuendos centered around bath products
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinjesus/pseuds/ballsdeepinjesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Kind of hard to reach my back with it though, innit?” Louis asks. “I’d need someone else to really reach my sore spots, wouldn’t I? In fact, all of this would be a little nicer with someone to share it with, I think.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry stares at him for a moment, clearly debating over what to say. Eventually he blurts, “I could draw you a bath.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Finally. Louis grins and looks up at a horror-stricken Harry through his eyelashes. “That’s the sweetest come on I’ve ever heard, Harry. Draw me a bath, though, are we sixty years old?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[harry and louis work at a mall for the summer]</p>
            </blockquote>





	cotton candy kiss, can't wait for my sugar rush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bravefortheboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravefortheboys/gifts).



> oh god :( i hope you liked even some of this i'm sorry if it's complete and utter trash ;~;

“Do you sell this in a more...blood orange color?”

Louis glances over to where a bearded man wearing acid wash jeggings and lensless glasses stands, a light blue mesh vest held out in front of him. Blood orange. Blood- _fucking_ -orange.

Louis is not a perfect person, but he questions what awful things he’s done in life that have resulted in him working at American Apparel for the summer.

_American Apparel_ , the pretentious hipster mecca of the mall. He’d needed a summer job to save money for a year of debauchery in his last year of uni, yes, but he didn’t need a summer job in which his bosses insisted on keeping the store at 27° in order to make their employees appear artfully drenched in sweat. 

He fluffs out his t-shirt and frowns at the rivulets of sweat he can feel running down his back. He hates his job. 

Perhaps this is karma for misdeeds in a past life, he thinks. Or for the time he forgot to feed his goldfish when he was 10. Maybe.

The customer clears his throat, drawing Louis’ attention back to him. His penny loafers tap impatiently against the hardwood floor while he waits for Louis’ answer. Blood orange tank, right.

Louis smiles and walks over to the man. “We have it in Chic Red, if that works for you?” he answers, pulling the offending article from a nearby rack and gesturing to see-through red fabric.

The man wrinkles his nose and groans. “No, no, that’s too red. I need _blood orange._ ”

Louis can feel his blood start to simmer, so he tacks on a false smile and puts the vest back onto the rack. “I’m afraid that’s the closest we come to that color, sir. Could I help you find anything else?”

“No, I’ll just have to go online to shop,” he responds, sighing like he’s put out. He places the top back onto the wrong rack and walks carelessly out of the store. Louis eyes the rack and scowls at the misplaced clothing, grabbing it and shoving it into the right spot. Twat.

The store is slow today, as not too many shoppers are out and about at a quarter to eleven on a Monday morning, but Louis has grown to appreciate these slow stretches of time. Working in retail has given him a newfound interest in people watching, a hobby he indulges in from safely behind the cash register. He props his elbows onto the countertop and looks out into the walkway outside the store, watching the stragglers shuffle by. 

There’s Flash, the middle-aged woman who speed-walks the mall every morning. Louis gave her the affectionate nickname after seeing her zoom past his store twice in fifteen minutes, a blur of a tie-dye t-shirt and a salt and pepper ponytail. He admires her tenacity. Maybe he should take up mall-walking.

Other than Flash, Louis doesn’t recognize anyone. There’s a frazzled-looking mother pushing two strollers in front of her with one hand while she chats on her phone. There’s an elderly man sitting on a bench outside happily munching on a pretzel, dusting off flecks of cinnamon sugar with every few bites. There’s a boy in the store across from him dancing.

Wait. Louis’ eyes skirt back to the store; he looks up at the sign in front -- Lush -- and then back to the boy. He works there it seems, judging from the black apron tied snugly around his waist. He has a broom in his hands, dusting it around his feet in exaggerated movements that he suspects are doing more harm than good as far as cleaning goes. But he’s dancing. Dancing to what Louis thinks is the mall music -- the generic, never-ending saxophone solo that blares from the loudspeakers at all hours of the day. 

The boy stumbles around on long legs, not unlike a bumbling deer, and shakes his hips exaggeratedly while he swishes the broom around the edge of a display. Louis can’t see his features well from where he’s stood, but his hair looks long and wavy from where it’s tucked underneath a colorful headscarf. He’s cute. 

Lush Boy trips over his own feet and falls into a display of black containers; he flings himself across the space in order to stop it from toppling over and glances frantically around him to see if anyone’s caught his blunder. Louis snorts behind his fist and turns to hide in the backroom, away from the other boy’s sight.

The prospect of an eight-hour shift seems a little brighter when he realizes he’ll have Lush Boy as entertainment. Excellent.

***

It’s not that Louis becomes obsessed with the boy, because, like, he _doesn’t_. It’s just -- his curiosity is undeniably piqued because of the endearing scene he witnessed a few days prior. So if he just happens to stroll past Lush on his way to and from work, well. It’s only natural. He just wants to see if Lush Boy is even cuter in person.

It’s very hard to catch a glimpse, however. Frustratingly hard. The few times he walks past and Lush Boy is actually working, his back is usually turned from him while he deals with a customer. He has a very nice back, actually, quite broad-shouldered if a little stooped, but he’s a bit sick of burning holes through it with his eyes in an attempt to get him to turn. 

He’s walking in front of the store that Friday, body half turned while he searches the perimeter for Lush Boy, when he slams into something solid.

He bounces back and curses, rubbing at his shoulder. “Shit, sorry mate,” he says. “Wasn’t watching where I--,” he cuts off once he looks up. Lush Boy is standing there smiling, a tray of small plastic cups of what looks like dough in front of him.

“Hiiiiiiii,” he trills. His voice is deep and smooth and not at all what Louis expected him to sound like. He’s tall-ish with pale skin and brilliantly large green eyes, topped off with pouty red lips straight from a Rolling Stones album cover. He’s smiling at him in a friendly way, eyes bright with interest as he waves at him cutely. “I’m Harry. Would you like a free sample?”

“Um. Y-yes. Of what?” Louis stammers. 

Harry grins and sets his tray onto a stand at his side, plucking a plastic cup from it to place onto his palm. He pulls off the lid and shoves it under Louis’ nose. “Smell it. It’s for your face.”

Louis takes a whiff and raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Smells like cookies.”

“Yes!” Harry chirps. “It’s our ‘Let the Good Times Roll’ face cleanser. Cleans your skin and kind of makes you want to eat it, too.” He snaps the lid back in place and grabs another, holding them out for Louis to take. “Our small tub is £6.40 but you’re cute so I’ll give you these for free,” he winks.

Flustered, Louis takes the offered samples and bites his lip. “Uh, thank you. Harry. Thanks.” Harry keeps staring at him with a pleasant smile, and Louis doesn’t know what to do. So he panics. Without another word he turns and speed walks into American Apparel, not glancing back until he’s safely hidden behind a rack of markdowns. Harry’s frowning at the store with a confused tilt to his mouth. He shrugs a few seconds later and turns around to greet a passerby. 

When he feels like he can breathe again, Louis comes out from hiding and gets ready for his shift. He may have just made a complete tit of himself in front of the most fit boy he’s ever met, but he also just saw _the most fit boy he’s ever met._ Lush boy is even lusher than expected. Louis is going to spend the entire summer across from a fit boy that he’s too dazed to hold a conversation with. He’s screwed.

***

Louis isn’t avoiding Harry now, per se, but after running into him -- literally -- he’s decided that going out of his way to walk past Lush on his way to work is just silly. It saves him at least thirty seconds taking the straight route to American Apparel, and that’s a very valuable half a minute in his opinion.

Maybe he’s moping more than he normally would, but Louis doesn’t think his preoccupation with staring longingly toward the other store on his downtime has any correlation with his dour mood. It’s probably just a side effect of working retail. 

On his lunch break, Louis wanders down to the food court so he can eat his feelings. Niall’s working at the ice cream place for the summer, so hopefully Louis can unload all of his pent up frustrations on him. And he would have too, had Harry not been sitting on the counter beside Niall. 

Lush Harry. Sitting on the counter in with his little apron untied and laying on his lap, licking a vanilla ice cream cone with his wide, pink tongue that he kind of wants to suck into his mouth. 

Louis stops in his tracks and contemplates turning around and walking straight back to the store. Liking Lush Boy from afar was just fine and dandy and more than enough for Louis; seeing _Harry_ in the flesh is just...a lot. Louis has never been short on confidence but something about Harry turns him into a blushing schoolgirl on the inside. It’s not a feeling he revels in.

He’s about to pivot on his foot and turn when Harry looks up, pausing one of his broad licks so that his tongue just hovers against the cone. Louis nearly moans.

Harry grins against his cone and waves his other hand excitedly. “Hi! You’re the one I gave the free samples to the other day! You work in the store across from me and you look bored to tears every time I look over.”

Niall chooses this time to pipe in. “His name’s Louis and he’s a dick. Run while you still can, Harry.”

Louis sputters in indignation although a part of him is grateful for the distraction that lets the blush that’s threatening to spread on his face die down a bit. “Excuse you, Niall.”

Niall cackles and spins back behind the counter. “Two scoops of mint chocolate?” Louis nods in agreement and watches as Niall opens a new box of cones. Casually, he turns to Harry and reads a poster behind his head, trying not to make the fact that he’s sneaking looks at his mouth seem too obvious. It’s really hard, though, because Harry’s mouth is so _big_ and his fist is wrapped around the cone and if Louis dreams big enough he can picture this same exact scenario, except with his cock involved. 

Louis is a terrible person.

He makes eye contact with Harry when he notices the boy is looking at him with friendly curiosity. Harry smiles against his cone and then lowers it against his chest to talk. 

“You know Niall?” he asks.

“Unfortunately,” Louis nods. “Met at uni. Couldn’t get away from him, the little leech.” 

Harry grins wide, showing off his sparkling teeth. “I’ve known him since Year 9, I think. Weird you and I never met.”

Cocking his head to the side, Louis contemplates him shrewdly. “Are you the Harry that got drunk and freed a litter of kittens from the pet shop?” Harry looks somewhat abashed and looks down with burning cheeks while he plays with a stray thread on his jeans.

“I left money under the door and I found homes for all of the kittens,” he says. He looks up and pouts. “They meowed at me everytime I walked past the shop, Louis. I’m a humanitarian.”

“Cat-itarian, more like,” Louis replies. 

It wasn’t even funny -- rather cringe-worthy if he’s honest -- but Harry snorts loudly anyway and claps his hands together, promptly dropping a scoop of ice cream against his jumper. He stares down at it with a disgruntled frown while Louis hurries to get napkins and help him wipe it off. 

“Don’t bother,” Niall’s voices pipes in. “I give Harry all of his ice cream for free because he drops it all over himself every time. He has the motor skills of an infant.” Harry gasps and gives Niall an affronted look, but Niall merely shrugs and hands Louis his cone. “Don’t deny it.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but then sniffs petulantly and huffs out a breath instead. “Not an infant,” he murmurs.

Louis looks back and forth from his cone to Harry and makes a split second decision. “Would you like--.”

“H,” a voice cuts in. An inhumanly attractive boy with long eyelashes and pouty lips comes up to Harry and slides his arm across his shoulders, looking down at his sweater. “Again? Need me to buy you another, babes?” 

Harry grins widely, dimples popping in his cheeks as he cocks his head and tucks it against Eyelashes McGee’s shoulder. “No thanks, Z.”

Z. _Zed_. Louis hates him immediately. The way his arm is draped across Harry’s shoulder is a little _too_ casual, almost like--.

Almost like they’re together. He looks in between them suspiciously while Harry blots his sweater with napkins. It’s ridiculous, really, that he’s feeling jealous over a boy he’s only met twice. More than ridiculous -- it’s irrational and probably a little caveman of him. He has no hold over Harry. He’s not even a friend. Yet.

“This is Louis,” Harry offers, gesturing towards him. “Louis, this is Zayn.”

Zayn smiles warmly at Louis, eyes crinkling behind his black, thick-rimmed glasses. He holds out a hand for him to shake, which Louis takes hesitantly. “Hey,” he greets. “Nice to meet you.”

Louis nods and gives him a painful smile. “Likewise.”

“Zayn works at MAC,” Niall pipes in. “Just a couple shops down from Harry. One of my best mates.”

“Is there a reason you’ve never introduced me to any of your friends, Niall?” Louis asks. “Are you hiding them from me?” Harry looks amused at the exchange, so Louis forges on, “Are you _ashamed_ of me?”

Niall rolls his eyes and cleans his hands off on a rag. “Prat. You know Liam.” He tosses the rag off to the side and shrugs. “And now you know Harry and Zayn. _Zarry_ ,” he snorts.

Harry groans and throws a balled up napkin at Niall who ducks behind the plexiglass cover and cackles. “Told you to stop with the portmanteaus, Ni.”

Louis feels himself losing his appetite. Harry and Zayn are close. Like, really close. Probably boyfriends-close. He takes one more sad lick of his cone and drops it in the bin at his side. He’s feeling like a disappointed ball of teenage angst and he grew past that stage years ago. 

“I’m gonna head back to work,” he states. “Got some shipments to put out on the floor. Happy days!” He’s really going to hide in the janitorial closet until his break is over, but. They don’t have to know that. 

“Bye Louis!” Harry chirps while Niall waves him off and Zayn gives him a friendly nod. 

He just needs time to lick his wounds is all.

***

He doesn’t get time to lick his wounds. He sits in the janitor’s closet for five minutes before the fumes from the cleaners give him an unwanted contact high. In those five minutes, however, he’s managed to come to two conclusions.

One, he is acting very Un-Louis Tomlinson-like. Louis Tomlinson is a confident, affable young man who decidedly does _not_ spend his spare time hiding in broom closets. Louis Tomlinson also does not pine over boys to the point of acting like a socially inept wimp. He’s not shy and he’s not pathetic and he is more than capable of acting like an actual human being around Harry.

Two, he needs to start treating Harry less like a cute boy and more like Harry. Even if he’s with Zayn and Louis’ dreams of becoming the Power Couple of the Mall with him are dashed, he can still be friends with him. Harry’s genuinely seems like one of the nicest people he’s met. He can be his friend.

When he finally staggers back out on the floor he sees a curly mop of hair peeking out from over a rack a few feet over. He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should go over and greet him or wait until he comes to the register, but his new resolve to be his friend draws him over.

He sneaks up behind Harry and watches as he picks up a pale lavender sweater to inspect it. “Pretty color,” he muses. Harry jumps a foot in the air and spins around, startled. 

“Christ,” he curses. “Give a warning next time, mate.” 

Louis just smirks and plucks the sweater from Harry’s grasp. “Didn’t know you shopped here?”

“I don’t normally,” Harry admits sheepishly. “But I need a new sweater.” He gestures hopelessly at the ice cream stain on his jumper.

“Right,” Louis answers. “Why are you wearing jumpers in the summer again?”

Harry narrows his eyes and grabs the sweater from Louis’ grasp. “Never too hot for a sweater, mate. It’s always sweater weather.”

He looks so serious when he says it, so Louis tries very hard not to laugh in his face. “Noted. Well, as a salesman here at American Apparel I’ll be glad to assist you, Harry. Would you like a different color of this?”

Harry frowns and shakes his head. “Lavender’s one of my favorite colors. This one’s perfect. I _do_ like red and black, though.”

“I can get some of your size out of the back for you while you try this on?” Louis offers. Harry beams at him and nods gratefully while Louis points him to the changing room.

He gives himself a mental pat on the back while he’s looking for the jumpers in the backroom. For the first time since the very short time he’s known him, Louis is successfully holding a conversation with the other boy. Small miracles, he thinks. 

When he stops outside the changing room with the jumpers, he can hear Harry inside the room humming softly to himself. “Having fun?” Louis asks.

Harry clicks the door open and grins, spreading his arms wide so Louis can look at the sweater. It’s huge and baggy on his thin frame, hanging off of his body with the sleeves falling past his hands, giving him the appearance of sweater paws. He looks proud of himself, clearly in love with his choice. 

“D’you like it?” he asks.

“Very roomy,” Louis answers. “Sure you don’t want a size down?”

Harry shakes his head and pushes the sleeves up so they bunch at his elbows. “Like ‘em big,” he smirks. 

Louis tries not to choke on his own spit because -- _okay_. “That’s -- well. Here are some other colors,” he says, shoving the sweaters into Harry’s hands. “Anything else you want?”

Harry hums and tucks the sweaters against his chest. “There was this one vest over there -- kind of mesh material? And red. Could you bring me one please?”

Christ. 

“Of course,” Louis grits out. The image of Harry in one of those godawful see-through tanks is not something he needed on his mind right now. _Friends_. He scampers over to the rack a few feet away and grabs the needed size off the hanger. When he offers it to Harry, the other boy winks and thanks him, shutting the door in his face. 

Harry winds up buying two jumpers. And the mesh vest. Louis tries not to think about it.

***

Now that he’s met Zayn and he’s finally on his radar, Louis starts seeing him a lot more often. Despite his attempts at maturity, he’s not altogether pleased with this new development. MAC is two stores to the right of Lush so sometimes when he glances up and looks out across the mall, he sees Harry scamper over to the store on his break to be with Zayn. And it’s fine. Totally fine. That small, sad part of Louis isn’t distraught over this at all. And he _definitely_ doesn’t watch the way Harry leans against the counter and giggles with Zayn.

So Louis is regrettably a little put out when his mum asks him to stop at MAC after work and pick up a birthday present for one of his sisters. He hopes Zayn isn’t working that day, but it’s just Louis’ luck that when he peeks around the entrance he sees an artfully constructed raven-haired quiff hovering near the lipstick. 

He tries to be as unassuming as he can, gingerly working his way around Zayn, but his mum wanted him to pick up lipstick and -- well Zayn’s right _there_.

“Hi Louis.” And he’s been spotted. Fantastic.

He pastes on a smile and turns to face the other boy. “Zayn, hey!”

“You looking for anything I can help you with?” he asks, looking him over. “Think you might be a shade NC30, but we’d have to do some swatches.”

“Oh no,” Louis protests. “But, uh, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. My sister’s birthday is coming up soon and my mum wants to pick her up some fancy lipstick.” He glances around at the shelves in front of him and frowns. “I’m...not sure where to start.”

Laughing, Zayn pats him on the back and gestures around him. “First you could tell me what kind of color you’re looking for.”

“Um. Pink,” Louis answers.

Zayn gazes at him impassively for a moment. “Pink. Any specific shade or?”

“No, just pink.” He’s not sure how many different variations of pink there can be, but from the way Zayn’s looking at him, there’s probably a lot. “Maybe hot pink?”

“I’m a fan of the raspberry shades meself,” a voice cuts in. Louis turns and watches as Harry lopes up to them enthusiastically, dimple poking through his cheek. He props his elbow on Zayn’s shoulder and waggles his eyebrows. “ _Full Fuschia_ really makes my eyes pop, I’ve found.”

Louis is suddenly assaulted with images of Harry wearing lipstick and that’s just. Too much. His lips are lovely enough as it is, naturally tinted a pretty berry shade that would look just perfect wrapped around--.

Harry is a _friend_. He casts a sneaky glance at the point of contact between Harry and Zayn. A presumably taken friend. 

“I don’t think she’d want that,” Louis chuckles weakly. “Something soft, maybe?”

Harry hums and nods. “ _Candy Yum-Yum_ , then. Perfect.”

Zayn gives him an annoyed look. “Do you work here now or?” 

Abashed, Harry knocks their shoulders together and smiles. “Sorry.” Zayn flicks Harry’s ear in response and pushes him away. 

“Right,” Louis falters. “I guess that one, then.” Harry beams and gives him a thumbs up for picking his choice while Zayn huffs out a breath and turns to find the tube of lipstick. 

“Hey Lou,” Harry begins. “Would you be interested in bowling tonight by any chance? Zayn and I are going and I’m going to invite Niall because he’s always up for everything, so. Um. If you’d like to come along? Please?” He twists his feet inwards while he wrings his hands out in front of his body, like he’s nervous he won’t go. _Hah_ , Louis thinks. As if he could stay away.

“Sounds fun,” Louis grins. 

“Yeah?” Harry beams. “You can invite anyone you want! The more the merrier. Maybe we can all get dinner after?”

Louis smiles and nods in response. He might invite Liam; if he found out they excluded him from group sport activities he might develop a complex.

He starts in surprise when Zayn taps his shoulder, holding out a lipstick for him to take and gesturing towards the front to ring him up. £15.50 for one lipstick. He tries not to be outraged.

***

Fate is on his side that night when Harry offers to team up with Louis. Zayn and Niall pair up against them while Liam, in a strange bout of competitiveness, declares he’d rather be a solo team.

Harry pulls him off to the side before they start their first frame. “Louis,” he murmurs. “We need to strategize.” He cocks his head towards Zayn and Niall a few feet away and squints his eyes. “We can take them out, easy. Niall will be too distracted by Zayn’s face to bowl anything but duds and Zayn doesn’t give a shit about bowling. _We’ve got this._ ”

“What about Liam?” Louis questions. 

Harry huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Not a threat. He’s all brute force and no finesse. Gutterballs all the way. Now,” he states, straightening himself up and holding his pink bowling ball in front of him. “I don’t know about you, but I know how to handle some balls.” Louis sputters a laugh and rolls his eyes while Harry smirks and nudges him with his hip. “We’re gonna kick ass.”

And they really do. Zayn’s pointedly indifferent to the game, choosing to amuse himself by watching Niall throw himself down the lane to try and score a strike. Shockingly, Niall does not bowl any strikes. Liam, on the other hand, rolls three gutterballs for every strike. 

Harry carries them to victory, tying his hair back into a tight bun during the final frame to bowl the perfect strike. Louis couldn’t be any prouder. He says as much, patting Harry on the back and giving him a high-five while Harry beams back, face flushed and happy. 

“Told you I know how to handle balls,” Harry whispers. He winks and titters and then prances off to go bug Zayn, poking him repeatedly in the side to rub their victory in. Zayn clearly doesn’t care but he pokes Harry back anyway, tickling his sides until Harry’s yelping for help.

And it’s like -- okay. Louis feels like he’s getting some mixed signals here. He sees Zayn and Harry acting like besotted kittens but then Harry will say something mildly flirtatious to Louis -- usually throwing in a bloody _wink_ \-- and it’s got him feeling a little off-kilter.

Everything comes to a head the next day at work. Louis is bored and on his break so he decides to pop into Lush for the first time and keep Harry company. As friends do, he supposes. Harry’s happy to see him, waving him over to the register excitedly. 

“Doing some shopping, Lou?” he asks.

“Er, no. Isn’t this just, like, bubble bath and stuff?” Louis answers, looking around the store. 

Harry looks perplexed. “Well, yeah. But you can have bubble baths too, you know? Let me show you around.” He wipes his hands on his apron and walks onto the floor, gesturing for Louis to follow him. He stops at a display of small black containers, plucking one into his palm and holding it out for Louis to take. “Smell it.” Louis opens it up and sniffs at the brown, gooey substance inside. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters. It smells like chocolate and mint and a very conflicted part of him wants to eat it, although he’s sure he’s probably not supposed to. 

“That’s our cupcake face mask,” Harry announces proudly. “I’m a fan of the Oatflix myself -- it’s made from _bananas_ \-- but that one’s great too. I’m just a fan of facials, what can I say?” He takes the container from Louis with a dirty smirk and places it back on the display, turning towards another pile of containers while Louis stares at his back in shock. 

“This,” Harry continues, unscrewing the lid from a small container, “is a lip scrub.” The inside is filled with a bright pink, sugary concoction. Harry dips his finger inside and brings it up to his lips. He stares at Louis while he rubs his finger against his lower lip slowly, spreading the mixture around. He smacks his lips together and then brings his tongue out to lick it off. “It’s edible, so you can lick it off afterward. Or someone else can, I suppose,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows and smiling. Louis isn’t sure what Harry is pulling right now and he’s not sure he likes it either. All of the confusion from the past couple weeks is swirling around his head and manifesting itself in his dick, it seems, judging from the twitch he feels in his pants.

Harry pockets the lip scrubs with a frown. “I guess I need to buy this one. Anyway,” he claps his hands. “Onto the most important Lush product. The bath bombs!” He walks over to the bins of colored balls and picks up a few of them in his hand. “This one is called the Butterball.” He tosses it to Louis and tells him to smell it. “Smells like vanilla, right? It’s supposed to soften your skin and make it smell sweeter, but I don’t think you need to worry about that.” He runs his eyes over Louis’ body and grins. “You’re sweet enough.” Louis’ confused boner certainly isn’t going away. “But you might like this one,” Harry offers. “It’s called the Fizzy O’Therapy. You can use it to soothe your sore muscles after...” Harry flutters his eyelashes and bites his lip while he looks at a flustered Louis. “Any kind of strenuous activity.”

Louis deeply regrets his decision to visit Harry at work. He also deeply resents Lush for creating a line of such surprisingly dirty products. Or maybe it’s just Harry making them dirty. Louis doesn’t know anymore.

“Um. I think my break is over,” Louis stammers. He places the bath bomb in Harry’s hand and gives him a weak smile. “Thanks for the tour.” He cuts around Harry and shuffles out of the store as quickly as he can. He trips over a display sign on his way out and casts a quick glance at Harry while he rights it; Harry looks unexpectedly despondent as he watches Louis walk away. 

Louis really needs to talk with Zayn.

***

Harry has off the next day, apparently, but Louis and Zayn don’t. During his break he sneaks into the MAC store and approaches Zayn at the register. Zayn lifts his head from where he was disinfecting some lipstick and smiles at Louis.

“Hey, bro. Need more birthday presents?” he asks.

“Are you and Harry together?” Louis blurts, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to just spring the topic on him like that. 

Zayn stares at him blankly for a few seconds, mouth slightly ajar in surprise. “Are you -- are you serious?”

Right. That probably answers his question. “Um, yes. Seriously.”

Louis isn’t prepared for the loud burst of laughter that escapes Zayn’s mouth. The other boy slaps his arm down on the counter and rests his forehead against it as he wheezes. “ _Me_ ,” he breathes, “and _Harry_.” He straightens himself up and wipes tears from his eyes underneath his glasses. “Oh, man. That’s funny. Is that why you’ve been so weird with me?”

“Have I been weird with you?” Louis asks. He didn’t think he’d been so open about it, at least.

“Yeah, bro. Super weird. You kept looking at me like you wanted to push me out of the way whenever I was next to Harry.”

“This is embarrassing,” Louis mutters. The blush fighting its way onto his face burns freely, spreading down to his neck. “Just so we’re clear -- you’re not dating Harry, then?”

“God, no,” Zayn laughs. “He’s my best friend and I love him, but like. No. Never.”

“Shit,” Louis curses. “So Harry’s like -- he’s single, yeah?”

Zayn nods as a slow grin covers his face. “Pining for you, mate.”

Louis feels like his world is getting slowly turned on its axis. “I -- _what_?” The sexual innuendos had been a bit blatant, yes, but Louis didn’t think he’d actually _meant_ anything by it. 

“Mmhmm,” Zayn hums. “He thinks you’re not into him, though, so you’d better fix that soon. Just a tip, bro.”

Well, fuck. Now Louis needs a plan.

***

The plan, Louis decides, is fighting fire with fire. He walks into Lush on his day off with his head held high, his tightest black jeggings and his tightest cutoff tank proudly displayed on his body. Harry’s stacking containers in the corner, humming a song softly to himself while he sways slowly to whatever music he’s playing in his head.

Louis coughs to get his attention, startling Harry out of his reverie and making him drop what he’s holding onto the ground with a curse. Louis bends to help him while Harry stammers out a greeting. 

“I was hoping you could help me with something,” Louis begins. Harry bites his lip and nods eagerly, carrying the fallen containers over to the counter to sort later. “I’m looking to properly pamper myself, yeah? So show me the ropes here, babe.”

Harry blushes at the endearment. “Well, I showed you the bath bombs the other day, but, uh, I can show you the bubble bars, too. They’re like bubble bath except kind of soapy, I guess. What kind of scent are you looking for?”

Louis doesn’t really care, honestly. “You pick.”

Harry hums thoughtfully and looks over the displays. “I really like the Creamy Candy. Smells just like candy floss.”

Nodding his head, Louis picks the recommended one up and puts it in his bag. He reads over the labels of the others until he stops on one and smirks. “What about French Kiss?” he asks. “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh, that’s lavender,” Harry offers. “Very relaxing.” Louis plucks that one up as well and turns to survey the rest of the store.

“I was looking at the website, Harry, and I’m really interested in those massage bars.” He places his bag on the ground and stretches his arms above his head, groaning. “Need to relax my muscles, you know?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he clears his throat. “Well, we have the Hottie.”

“The Hottie?” Louis laughs.

“Yeah, it’s molded with little bumps on it to make the massage feel extra nice, but it’s supposed to soothe your muscles,” Harry informs him.

“Kind of hard to reach my back with it though, innit?” Louis asks. “I’d need someone else to really reach my sore spots, wouldn’t I? In fact, all of this would be a little nicer with someone to share it with, I think.” 

Harry stares at him for a moment, clearly debating over what to say. Eventually he blurts, “I could draw you a bath.”

Finally. Louis grins and looks up at a horror-stricken Harry through his eyelashes. “That’s the sweetest come on I’ve ever heard, Harry. Draw me a bath, though, are we sixty years old?”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Harry falters. “You ran from me the other day and I thought you were repulsed by me.”

Louis cringes and scratches at the back of his neck. “About that. I’ve been kind of a tit this entire time, haven’t I? I’m not usually like this, I swear. You just,” Louis pauses, searching for the right words. “You make me kind of nervous, you know? And then I thought you were with Zayn and--.”

“You thought I was with _Zayn_ ,” Harry giggles. “Why in the world?”

“Yes, Harry, I thought you were with Zayn,” Louis quips. “But that’s neither here nor there, thank you. What I’m trying to say is that yes, I really do like you. And I’d absolutely love for you to draw me a bath, although I think we should probably go on a date first.”

Harry’s grin lights up the entire store.

***

In retrospect, having their first date in the food court was not either of their best decisions.

Zayn and Niall are gathered at the ice cream counter, watching and calling out crass comments from across the mall. Zayn makes it a point to stop by and tease Louis for “stealing his boyfriend,” sending Harry into amused titters. 

It’s not bad, though, not at all. 

Louis learns that Harry wants to be a primary school teacher but genuinely enjoys working at Lush in the meantime. Apparently he owns nearly half of the products in the store at home. Louis can’t wait to try them out.

Niall gives them free ice cream and Louis gets to watch Harry lick from his cone while maintaining perfect, heated eye contact. He doesn’t drop his ice cream this time.

Their kisses later that night taste like mint chocolate and strawberry. Louis thinks it’s a good combination.

***

**Three Dates Later**

Harry’s been secretive all week about their date tonight, simply telling Louis to come over to his flat at seven sharp and bring a spare set of clothes. 

When he knocks on his door that night, he hears Harry call out “It’s unlocked!” from inside. The flat is dimly lit when he walks inside, but the light in Harry’s bathroom illuminates the hallway. 

He can’t help but laugh when he walks inside and sees Harry resting against his bathroom counter with his hip cocked, candles lined up on the rim of the bathtub. Harry’s wearing a fluffy white robe and nothing else as he tosses a bath bomb up in the air and catches it. 

“How about I draw you that bath, Tomlinson?” 

“You’re joining me, right?” Louis asks. 

Harry scoffs and unties his robe. “Of course. As if I’d miss this opportunity.”

Louis grins and lifts his arms for Harry to take his t-shirt off. He unbuttons his jeans quickly and slides them off his legs, letting them pool at his feet and then kicking them away. He takes a moment to watch as Harry drops his robe onto the floor, baring his body proudly. He’s milky white and covered in ink that Louis makes a mental note to lick later. 

Harry demurely covers his bits with his hand and gestures for Louis to continue while he gets the bath ready. He twists the nozzles on the tub and puts the stopper in, grabbing the bath bomb from the counter and unwrapping it.

Louis steps out of his pants and steps up behind Harry to watch him work his magic. 

“We’ll be using the Fizzbanger tonight,” he says. Louis snickers at the name but zips his lips when Harry gives him a Look. He plops it into the bathwater and Louis watches in awe as it slowly dissolves, making the water a bright yellow that smells vaguely of Fruit Loops. He’s definitely a fan.

“Now,” Harry says, turning and wiggling his eyebrows at Louis, “Let’s get in.”

Louis climbs in first and settles against the back of it with his head rested against the shower wall. He watches Harry eagerly as he climbs in behind him, trailing his eyes over his long, muscled legs and his perky arse and his _cock_ which is more mouth-watering than he’d ever expected. Harry turns so his arse is facing Louis and then sits down gingerly in the water, careful not to slosh any out of the tub. He leans back against Louis’ chest and snuggles in, wiggling his body against his until he gets comfortable. Louis tries not to get too excited by the sensation because he’s not a bloody teenager, thank you, so he busies himself by tinkering with the bottles lined up against the edge. There’s a large bottle next to the soap dish that catches his eye.

“ _It’s Raining Men_? Seriously, H?” he asks with a laugh.

Harry hums and shrugs, twisting his neck to look up at him. “Smells like toffee,” he says. “And it’s named after one of the best karaoke songs in existence, so. Of course I own it.” 

Louis clicks open the lid and pours some into his palm to sniff. Harry’s right, it smells amazing, but he doesn’t want to admit that. So instead he settles his soapy palm against Harry’s body and starts lathering him up, neck to arms and chest to belly button. Harry purrs happily and arches his chest into the contact, asking for more. Louis lifts his arms to reach his armpits and maybe tickle him a little, which earns him a giggle and a gasp. He pushes at Harry’s back to get him to lean forward and then pours more onto his spine to lather into his skin. He thumbs at the knobby vertebrae and pushes into the dip of his lower back, remembering that Harry mentioned having soreness there once. When he pushes in deep and circles out towards his love handles, Harry groans and throws his head forward.

“Christ, you should be a masseuse,” Harry murmurs.

“My true calling in life, obviously,” Louis replies. “Now let me wash your hair and then you can do me.”

Unsurprisingly, Harry owns a banana shampoo and a strawberry and vanilla scented conditioner. It actually smells amazing, though, so Louis doesn’t say anything as he massages the fruity-scented goop into Harry’s hair. Harry is quite literally purring at the contact; Louis feels like he could get used to this. He grabs the pitcher at the side of the tub and fills it up in order to rinse everything out of Harry’s hair. When Harry twists around in the tub to face Louis and give him the same treatment, his hair is long and straight, hanging limply across his face and resting at the nape of his neck. 

Louis is in love. He’s positive he’s in love. And once it becomes socially appropriate to admit that, he’s probably going to write it on a cake and serve it to him as dessert. He figures that can wait at least a month. In the meantime, he kisses Harry’s pretty pink lips, licking droplets of water from his upper lip.

Harry takes his time with Louis, working his fingers into the tense muscles at the nape of Louis’ neck while he soaps him up, curling around his body and flicking his fingers teasingly at his nipples to get a rise out of him. 

Having his hair washed is a bit of a divine experience. Harry’s hands are nimble and strong as he works the product through his hair and massages at his temples. He almost whines when Harry reaches for the pitcher to rinse him off. 

They rest in lukewarm water after a blushing Harry tells him to turn around while he “washes his bits.” Louis rolls his eyes but does the same, trying not to let his grip linger around his cock while he sneaks a peek behind him to watch Harry reach a hand behind his back. 

When the water gets too cold, Harry sighs and sits up to pull the stopper from the tub, letting the murky yellow water swirl down the drain. He steps out carefully, avoiding the candles along the edge, and steps onto the bathroom rug. He turns to help Louis out and then reaches for two fluffy white towels to dry themselves off with. Louis tosses his off to the side and takes Harry’s, drying his wet hair until it rests in damp waves around his face. He dries off Harry’s limbs, smirking up at him when he drops to his knees to dry his legs. Harry blushes down at him and pinches his lip in between his fingers, lifting each leg for Louis to dry him completely. 

Louis makes quick work of himself and hangs up both of their towels on the rack to dry. He peeks into the tub and notices a slip of paper resting on the bottom. He gives Harry a curious look and reaches for it; he snorts loudly when he sees it reads “Bang!” 

“Did this come out of the bath bomb?” he asks. 

Harry giggles and nods, taking it from him and reading it over. “Sounds kind of like a suggestion doesn’t it?” He shoots Louis a filthy grin and rests the paper on the counter, tugging him by the hand out of the bathroom and down the hallway into his bedroom. The room is dark except for Harry’s bedside lamp that illuminates his bed. 

“Now I don’t want you to think that I expect anything--,” Harry starts, but Louis quickly interrupts him.

“We just bathed together, Harry. Your arse was against my crotch for forty-five minutes. I think we’re in a good place to do something,” Louis responds. Harry blushes and knees himself up onto the bed, patting a spot next to him for Louis to sit.

Despite the dim lighting, Louis can still see the pink-scrubbed cleanness of Harry’s skin and it’s like -- he’s wanted Harry for so long and he doesn’t think they’re rushing things if he tells him he wants his mouth on him. He trails his eyes down to his hips and the soft swell of his bum -- he wants his mouth _everywhere_.

“Can you -- can you get on your stomach?” Louis asks. 

Harry’s eyes widen but he eagerly complies, settling himself on his tummy with his head rested on folded arms on top of a pillow. He turns his head and watches with curious eyes as Louis climbs on top of him, leaning down to press gentle kisses against his shoulder blades, his spine, the dip of his back, the dimples above his bum. When his lips finally linger against the curve of his arse, Harry let’s out a pretty sigh and spreads his legs apart slightly. 

Louis brings his hands up to Harry’s thighs and massages his fingers deeply into the thick muscles, rubbing small circles underneath his cheeks. He bites at the back of his left thigh making Harry hiss and moan, spreading himself even wider underneath his touch. 

Slowly, so Harry knows his intent, Louis brings his hands up to Harry’s cheeks and slowly spreads him open. He’s pink and clean and delicate, his entrance clenching gently as Louis blows onto it. He leans down and flattens his tongue underneath it, licking a broad stripe over it until he reaches the cleft of his arse.

“Louis,” Harry whines. “Please.”

“Already gone for it,” Louis teases. “Patience, darling.”

Keeping him spread open, Louis keeps his mouth hovered over his entrance until Harry arches his back and tries to push back onto his face. Louis finally gives in and flicks his tongue around his circles, tracing his rim with a prodding touch. He puckers his lips against him and sucks gently, massaging the clenched muscles of his arse while he licks pokes his tongue against his hole. 

When he leans back to breathe, he takes a peek underneath Harry to watch as he ruts against his bedsheets. Louis’ hard too, just getting off from the sweet taste of Harry’s skin and the delicate moans from Harry muffled into his pillow. 

He reaches one of his hands down to pump himself twice, giving a little relief while he watches Harry’s entrance twitch. He presses himself against the mattress and humps it gently, satisfied with the pressure it relieves, and then goes back to work, swirling his tongue around Harry’s rim. He presses his thumb down against his entrance to provide extra stimulation as he licks messily along his arse, licking along the cleft between his cheeks until he reaches the small of his back. He bites gently at the swell of his cheek and goes back down, making dirty, sloppy noises as he sucks at his entrance.

Harry’s beginning to lose himself, Louis can feel it; he gains a little leverage on his knees and starts to almost ride Louis’ face from his prone position, rubbing himself against his tongue and back. Louis reaches around him and thumbs at the tip of his cock, feeling nothing but wetness smeared all around him. He keeps his fist wrapped loosely around him and lets Harry rock back and forth; fucking himself into his hand while he fucks himself onto his face. 

“Please, please, please,” Harry pleads. “I need --.”

“Need what, babe,” Louis whispers against his skin. With his left hand, his slowly presses his finger into his hole shallowly, licking around it and suckling. 

“Just -- little -- more,” Harry pants.

Louis takes that as his cue to add another finger, curling them down to search for his prostate. When he finally nudges against it, he keeps his fingers pressed down and rubs hard while he presses his tongue alongside them.

Harry’s body seizes underneath him, clenching hard as he screams. Louis feels his cock pulse underneath his hand, spilling come onto his fist and onto his bedsheets. He works him through his orgasm slowly until Harry’s twitching and whining from oversensitivity. When he pulls out, Harry collapses onto the bed and groans, twisting his head to watch as Louis sits back on his knees and works at his cock furiously, eyes running over the length of Harry’s body. 

He comes when he looks at Harry’s face, flushed red and shiny with sweat, lips puffy and swollen. He groans and spills onto his arse, painting it white. He falls on top of Harry as gently as he can, breathing harshly against the nape of his neck. Harry twists around until their faces are inches apart and gives him a deep kiss, wrapping his arms around his body and hugging him.

“Hell of a Fizzbanger, wasn’t it, H?” Louis whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> that ending was so cheesy i'm sO SORRY


End file.
